


Not A Body Farm

by BookishTea



Series: Crack AU [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Crack, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Nonsense, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Swearing, molliarty - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookishTea/pseuds/BookishTea
Summary: Molly really should've known better than to download FarmVille on a criminal mastermind's cell phone, even if it had been a hilarious joke at the time. Since one day she wakes up in a bed in some random farm in the middle of nowhere, and the deed to the property in her name.





	1. Ma & Pa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BurningLostStars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningLostStars/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is dedicated to the lovely, _whyimmathere_. Who inspires me with our late night conversations to write silly stories, and to add onto our crack series. I hope you enjoy it!  <3
> 
> Ps. I suggest you click [this.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eYHeUSrjpxE)  
> Edit: Thanks to [whyimmathere](http://whyimmathere.tumblr.com/) for the cover, once again you're the fuel to this madness.

                                                   

                                                  

 

It had started as a joke, a harmless joke after Jim had stolen all of her underwear. In retaliation, and with the help of Sebastian, she got access to her boyfriend’s cell and downloaded FarmVille. She had changed his settings so as many notifications would pop up. After she put his cell back, she tried to not laugh when he stepped out from the shower. She bit her bottom lip, eyeing Jim with a towel wrapped around his waist.

He had raised a brow before he smirked, taking the action differently than she intended. With a sly look he dropped the cloth to the ground. Not how she thought her day would go, but the next moments were wholly welcomed. As the day went on, she couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t working. Did she somehow mess up? Days passed and gradually she forgot about the prank with the lack of response. It had been a solid week, but that’s when it happened.

She should of known he was up to something, he had greeted her after a long day of work with a home cooked meal. Not even takeout or food one of his personal chefs made, he had cooked it. And it had been done well.

"What's all this?" She asked in pleased shock, smiling when he took her jacket.

"Molly my love, you've been working far too hard." He neatly hung the garment in the closet, returning to her side to direct her to the kitchen, where a plate was already waiting for her on the table. 

"You didn't have to do all this."  Shushing her, Jim pulled out the chair, waiting for her to sit down before he tucked it in. He lightly kissed her on the forehead, whispering "I wanted to." There was no way about it, she was flabbergasted. Everything had been meticulously set, the lights were dim and a lit candle acting as a centre-piece. There was ambient music playing, all of the romance cliches that Molly loved were here. For a second Molly questioned whether Jim was all right, if he was having a fever or not. Sometimes he had his romantic moments, but more than not it involved ripping Molly's clothes off, or a spontaneous trip not... not a quiet get together. "I hope you like it."

She looked down, beaming at the food. Duck breast with pomegranate-citrus glaze and a side of vegetables, the skill behind it was surprising, but he always did keep her on her toes. "Jim" she said softly, words filled with warmth "this is beautiful."

"It's not quite finished, dearest." Flashing her a sharp smile, Jim took a chilled bottle of wine from the refrigerator. "The pièce de résistance!" He took a pair of wine glasses from the cupboard, pouring a healthy amount into each. Placing their respective glasses and the bottle down, Jim snagged the seat directly across from her's. "Go on," his smile was all teeth "have a bite."

And so she did, cutting a portion of the meat cleanly, Molly salivated in anticipation as she put a portion in her mouth. She covered it with the back of her hand, moaning at the taste. Jim cut into his own, smirking "Is it good?" Unable to answer, Molly nodded as she eagerly went in for a second piece.

It had been just about thirty minutes when she first noticed the symptoms, she had spilled some of the wine on the table and asked for a napkin. Yawning with a sudden feeling of sleepiness, Molly held her hand out, asking "C-can you.. can you pass m-me the, uh the.." She wet her dry lips, confused by her own slurred speech. Not enough of her wine had been drunk to licit such a manner of talking. That's when she started to jot down notes about her behaviour, search for an answer becoming frantic as the cause became clearer. Spilling the wine, sleepiness, confusion, difficulty talking, drunk feeling, nausea and...

Molly looked up, blinking hard at the two Jim's staring at her, identical expressions of innocence. Visual impairment... Molly shook as she tried to push her chair back, panicking with the word  _Rohypnol_ flashing in her head. She didn't have much time, opening her mouth wide as she tried to put her fingers down her throat, attempting to vomit the drug up. Even before Jim grabbed her wrist, she knew it was in vain, it had already coursed through her system. Pulled towards her boyfriend's body, she began to silently cry, fingers threading through her hair as she was shushed. "It's all right," Jim whispered, watching as it became harder and harder for Molly to keep her eyes open. "I won't let anything happen to you." Molly mumbled feebly, striving for cursing her insane boyfriend out when the world slipped into darkness.

* * *

 

When Molly came to, the first thing she did was close her eyes again, pressing the heels of both of her palms into the sockets. The sunlight that filtered through the bedroom was strong, but she may just be sensitive from the hangover. Hangover? Molly's brows furrowed, thinking of last night's events. She sat up, dropping her hands. It all came rushing back, the force of which nearly knocking her on her ass. Confused and more than slightly angry, she took in the room.

The walls were a sky blue with white trim, the lace curtains that covered the large windows fluttered in the wind. Opened, they let in the sound of a roaster crowing loudly. Sputtering Molly clambered out of bed, wooden floorboards creaking as she walked over to the windows. Squinting against the sunlight, she felt a warm breeze on her face and the scent of sweet grass on the air. Over an old stone fence, she could see sheep grazing. Molly turned around, stumbling back to bed. Sitting down she ran a hand through her hair, now noticing in her stupor her clothing. A white cotton night gown that went to her upper knees, the top hung from her shoulders. She shivered, warmth from the sun on her skin. Sighing a loud, she made a decision and climbed to her feet. Chin held up high and back straight, she walked out of the room, stomping down the wooden stairs. 

She found Jim in the small kitchen, seated at the breakfast table, he was reading from a newspaper. Set before him was a small plate of buttered toast and orange slices, and a cup of tea. While she stood there, separated by only the table, Jim gave his papers a flick before addressing her. "Did you have a good sleep, love?"

"Jim" Molly breathed out, trembling with anger. Her boyfriend lowered the newspaper, finally showing his face. He smiled up at her, acting as if nothing was wrong. Molly choked on her own saliva, wondering if she was hallucinating. The consulting criminal was wearing jean overalls over a long sleeved shirt, on top of his head was a straw hat. He gestured for her to sit down, "You look hungry, why don't you eat something?"

Feeling light headed Molly took a seat, eyeing the sunny-side up eggs, strips of crispy bacon, and toast. Her stomach groaned loudly, but she made no move towards the food. Rolling his eyes, Jim leaned forward, taking her fork to take a bite out of everything. Swallowing loudly, he offered the fork back to her. "Happy?" Molly snatched it, scowling.

"You drugged me."

Snorting Jim leaned back in his chair, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ma." Molly scoffed, eyebrows shooting up.  _Ma?_   Attempting a southern American accent, Jim stood up, hooking his thumbs into his overalls. "I reckon I should get started, don't want to waste daylight." Walking over to her in muddy boots, Jim leaned down to press a kiss into the corner of Molly's mouth. 

Molly blankly stared as he pulled back, watching as he headed out the door. Stopping in the frame, Jim paused, still doing that ridiculous accent he said "My crops should be ready for harvesting." He gave her a wink after that, walking out as the door shut behind him. Molly was left there, realization nailing her right on the head as she tightly held onto her fork.

"Fucking FarmVille."


	2. Apple Pie

The only thing Molly could do in response to all this insanity, was to eat her cooling breakfast and to head back upstairs, and it was the strangest thing. As she ventured up she made sure to peer into all of the rooms, and despite being drugged against her will, Molly had to appreciate the dedication and effort Jim put into the smallest detail.

The house was fully furnished and appeared well used, it was decorated in way that Molly would have done if she actually lived here. A cabinet in the living room filled with Beatrice Potter glass figurines, and on the wall up the stairs there was frames hanging that held photos. Mostly her and Jim, but there was Toby as well - him in funny little hats. Molly squinted, staring at them. 

In all of them he was glaring off to side, expression the same. There was a pirate one, a top hat, corn, a witch hat, and finally Toby dressed as a sailor. Molly hated to admit it, but she was jealous. She could never get Toby to sit long enough in any of the costumes she got him, she wondered how he managed to do it. Molly stomped up the rest of the steps, going into the bedroom.

When she opened the closet she discovered it was filled with clothes as well. Ignoring the summer dresses, even if they were adorable, Molly picked out some old jeans and a plaid shirt. From the look of Jim's clothes, it was dirtier outside than she would have preferred. Lifting the night gown up and over her head, she let it fall to the ground with a sigh. She shivered, hair on the back of her neck rising. Thinking it'd be Jim, hoped it would be, she glanced over her shoulder.

 

Jim looked up from the dirt at the scream, grinning from ear to ear. "Looks like she found it, Seb." Sebastian shook his head, tossing some of the leftover feed for the ducklings. He didn't know what to do anymore, his boss took him away from important work - assassination, burglary, dealing with the Welsh, because he was needed to work on a farm. Sighing he tried to step around the small yellow and brown birds, but they followed his movement. Chirping loudly when he walked too quickly for them to keep it, they'd been acting like this ever since he found them cornered by some crows. He stiffened at the laughter coming from the garden, "I guess I should start calling you, _Mama Seb_."

"Don't you dare." His eyes narrowed, trying to appear intimidating but failing with the ducklings on his rubber boots. He waited for another joke from his boss, but another scream sliced through the fresh air. It sounded a lot like "Jim!" The man in question rolled his eyes, grunting as he stood.

"I best deal with the missus before she brings out the scalpels." Sighing he left his work of gathering vegetables and crossed the yard back into the house. Knocking his boots on the porch before he came in, he snorted at Molly who was coming down the stairs in a fit. "Knickers okay, love? You look like they might be in quite the twist."

Molly held a finger up, silencing him asides for a few giggles, "Why is there a..." She broke off with a shudder, "a _cow head_ on the wall?"

Jim mock glared at Molly, placing his hands on his hips. "How dare you refer to Sir Beef Wellington as just a cow head!" Molly gaped at him, mouth opening and closing a few times.

"You named it?!" 

"Him." Jim corrected "Sir Beef Wellington is a _him._ "

"I don't care what it is! Jim," Molly pleadingly took a step forward, "I want to go home."

"Not happening, we've always lived here - got the deed and everything."

"Deed, what deed?" 

Jim's grin stretched across his face, "The deed for the house, love." 

"Jim!" She says louder this time, more frantic. "I can't live here! Who's going to feed..." Her eyes go wide, "Where's Toby?!" Her boyfriend winces at the volume of her voice, patting her on the arm.

"It's quite all right, love. I wouldn't abandon our son, last time I saw him he was in the living room." Molly's socked feet skated on the tile as she raced from the kitchen to the floorboard living room. Deep down she knows that Jim would never hurt Toby, those two are thicker than thieves, but it still has her exhaling in relief at him laying on the top of a large bookshelf. Stretched out and barely hanging on as he sunbathed. "See?" A voice beside her said "Perfectly fine."

"Jim, I want to go home..." The gentle smile her boyfriend had is gone, in its place is a mischievous one.

"Love, I don't know what you mean, this has always been our home."  Pointedly Molly brushed past him and heads to the front. After finding a pair of boots that would fit her, she went outside, needing some distance between them before she got violent - and maybe she could find out where she was. 

Stepping out there was a stable across from her; Molly walked on the path, following it around the property to the end of the lane. There was a gate which her a solid five minutes to figure out, forget her being a scientist, but the latch wouldn't open.

She didn't know what to expect as she went down the muddy road, a sign maybe? If she was lucky she would see a person, but how would she ask without looking crazy? Things looked relatively the same, but she wasn't certain. Most of her life had been spent in the city, she didn't know much about landscapes and nature. Walking along that stretch of road, she lost track of time, it could have been ten minutes or an hour. When she finally saw another person it was three men standing by a fence, the average between them looked to be late forties. Clearing her throat softly, she called out "Hello?!"

They turned around, all of them were tanned from countless hours in the sun, and their clothes were jeans and dirty shirts. The taller out of all them approached her first, stepping away from what looked to be inspection of a hole. "Bonjour!" Shit. It looked like she wasn't in the UK, Jim had taken her out of the country to go to some rural farming community in _France_. The wanker he was...

Molly's gaze darted between them, trying to remember how to hold a conversation beyond, 'excuse me, where is the bathroom?' Taking in a deep breath, she tried her hand at it. Hoping she wasn't butchering it terribly, "Je somme perdu. S’il vous plaît, je cherche..." She broke off, searching for the correct word. "Um.. an airport?"

"Ah," the taller man glanced at his friends before saying "L’aeroport." Turning back to her, then proceeded to talk rapidly, gesturing wildly as he gave directions. Wishing she had a phrase book with her, Molly tried to get him to slow down. In a panic repeating the same sentence, "Pouvez vous parler plus lentement, s’il vous plait" or "could you speak more slowly, please" a dozen times. It didn't work. They came to a pause when the sound of walking hit them, and sure enough it was Jim in his ridiculous straw hat and jean overalls. 

Strolling in between them and of course fluent, Jim talked to the farmers in French. The speed of it flew over Molly's head, and before she knew it, the farmers were nodding and giving her sympathetic looks. That done with, Jim pulled her away from them and dragged her back to the house, leaving her with the question what exactly did he say about her? And why did they accept it so easily?

 


	3. Cow Head

_Several hours later_

Admittedly there was a plus side to being stuck on a farm, the quality and access to fresh vegetables was far more convenient. Not having much to do while here, and not confident in helping the other two men farm, Molly read some of the books left in the house and made up dinner. There was a beef roast in the fridge, which she cooked in a big pan with carrots, onions, peppers, and mushrooms. A jug of cooking wine under the sink was used to add the perfect amount of flavour.

Sighing as she tucked the pan in the oven, she closed the door and stood up, leaning forward to press in the time. Only to realize that it wasn't a modern model and didn't have that function, but she did find a egg shaped timer on the counter. Rolling her eyes, she twisted it to the proper time. Putting it back down, she brushed her jeans off, looking around the kitchen.

How bizarre this day had been, but wasn't that Jim? After she started to date him, even the simplest things seemed to now carry a new edge. But living on some farm... now that was new. It was a real surprise, Jim didn't typically like things associated with the manual labour life. The dirt, tending to the property and animals, the manure.. he preferred a well planned heist, coffee in the morning, expensive suits, and binge watching shows. Though she figured he was willing to go to great lengths out of sheer spite, that was just the man he was. 

"I wonder" she mumbled, wiping a finger on the counter. "What poor fellow did he get this from?" Unaware that simple French farming couple was in an underground fighting arena, trying to stay alive as they fought to the death - in a couple of days time they would be released, Mr. Moreau would have lost a hand and his wife would be in a considerably better condition. Now bald but not missing anything terribly important other than a pinky finger, but do we truly need that digit?

"Oh Jim" Molly sighed, shaking her head.

 

An hour later and the food was done, Jim and Sebastian came in from outside. Grunting she placed the heavy pan on the stove top, Molly looked to the side, caught off guard as she watched Sebastian carry in an armful of small birds. Grumbling as they chirped loudly, he caught her eye, an embarrassed blush rising to his cheeks. Tossing her oven mitts to the counter, Molly took a step forward, blinking as she studied the scene a little further. "Are those... are those ducklings?"

"Yes" he sighed, not seeming to be pleased.

"They seem really taken with you." He grunted, slipping his boots off by the door and pointedly walking past her. Molly raised a brow watching after him. Jim, who sat down at the table, began to chuckle. His girlfriend shot him a glare when he mockingly called out, "Mama Seb!" 

"Oh shush!"

"What?" He raised a brow, smile dropping when he noticed the expression she was giving him. 

"Leave him alone. Heaven knows the man deserves some space, after dealing with you all the time." Jim scoffed at that, leaning back on his chair as he glared up at her.

"Careful, darling" he drew out, eyes narrowing. "You should be watching that tone." Molly accordingly picked one of the oven mitts from the counter and threw it at him. Jim of course caught it before it hit his chest, but the sudden movement threw him off balance. His arms flailed around, and Molly watched on as if it were in slow motion as Jim and the chair fell backwards. He cursed loudly as he crashed to the ground.

Covering her snorting giggles, Molly appreciated the scene for a few moments before she gave a shriek, scurrying out of the room as Jim went after her. In the guest bedroom, Sebastian sighed. Laying back on his bed as he read from his book, he tried to ignore the sound of feet running around the house and cursing. On his chest and tucked to his sides, his new wards were trying to sleep despite the onslaught of noise. A slight shift of the floorboards had the sniper's finely tuned senses prickling, and he lowered his book, muscles tense. The door had been parted, and from the hallway he could see a pair of eyes staring back.

Sebastian scowled at Toby, telepathically daring the cat to try something. Gazes locked, he watched as the feline slowly slinked backwards, disappearing into the hallway. He had won today's battle, but would he win the war?

* * *

_Later that night_

The sheets were cool on her skin, but Molly didn't mind, sighing as she shifted her legs against the fabric. It had been a long day, one she wasn't sure if she would ever look back in fondness. She could hear Jim in the connected bathroom, water running as he spat his toothpaste into the sink. As the water ceased, she could hear him padding into the room, yawning as he made his way over. The mattress dipped with his weight and the blankets were lifted up as he slid underneath, pressing into her side. A kiss was felt on her nape, but she didn't turn around, pouting in the dimmed lighting. 

She was still highly annoyed with him, that she was stuck in some forgotten place while all of her friends and family remained in London, continuing their lives without her. And it didn't help that she had no idea how long she'd have to stay, whenever she brought the topic up, quickly Jim changed it to something mundane like vegetables. God, he could so infuriating sometimes!

"Oh dear. You're not still cross, are you?"

"I don't know, Jim. Why would I be?" She sarcastically replied. Clearly not noticing or caring, he responded with. "Exactly! But don't worry, I can make you feel better." She huffed at the smug tone to his voice, feeling his warm hand on her hip, and running along her sides. Around this time Molly made the mistake of looking to the side.

Jim frowned when Molly tensed, pushing against him as she recoiled in fear. "Molls?" He whispered, concerned. She couldn't hear him, she was far too fixated on the glass eyes staring at her. Sir Beef Wellington was facing her, he seemed so... betrayed. Typically Molly was unaffected by death, in fact she enjoyed taxidermy herself, and had a couple of them back in her flat. But most certainly not a cow, and not one who gave her an expression of such hurt. The taste of dinner came back to haunt her. Jim gave her a shake, suddenness having Molly yelping.

"Molly?!" Jim hissed.

" _What?"_ He grabbed a hold of her shoulder, forcing her body to turn as he then tilted her head, making her look up at him.

"What's the problem?"

"I don't know," Molly snapped "maybe it's because there's a bloody dead cow staring while you feel me up!"

Jim dropped his hand, favouring to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut in annoyance. "This is all because of the fucking head?!" Molly tightly held her mouth shut, glaring. Questioning whether this prank was worth all of the hassle, Jim promptly threw the covers back, sliding out of bed with a series of mumbled curses. Stomping to the bathroom, he snatched the towel hanging on the door and went to Sir Beef Wellington, covering him with it. Hands on his hips, he turned to Molly, gesturing angrily "Are we happy now?!"

" _Yes_." Molly bit back, blankets up to her chin as she held his gaze.

 

Back in his own room, Sebastian cursed loudly, willing the pair to shut up! He had a pillow over his head, feeling like he was reliving his childhood as they continued to yell at each other. This was then followed by a large bang, and then escalated until it was suddenly silent. A breathy sigh cut through the night, followed by the sound of kissing. Cursing even louder, Sebastian rolled over, careful not to curse his child- the _ducklings_. Seriously, he was tempted to just sleep outside in the barn. He sat up when he heard a moan, tossing his blanket off and hanging it over his shoulder. Gathering the little birds up, he stumbled out of the room and down the hallway. Hoping at least outside he could fall asleep without hearing that nonsense, if not, he would have to invest in ear plugs and bleach to erase the memory.

For the millionth time that day, he wondered if his pay was worth doing this job.


	4. App Update

Molly frowned at the light streaming through the windows, burrowing her face further into the pillow, groaning. After a few moments she sighed loudly, figuring she might as well get up. She peeled the covers back, shivering as her nakedness left the safety and warmth of the bed, and padded over to the dresser. Another pair of jeans and a t-shirt suited her fine today. Finally pulling the shirt over her head, she glanced over her shoulder to the empty bed. 

Sighing loudly, she padded out of the bedroom to find out what exactly her evil boyfriend was getting up to. He wasn't in the rest of the house, at the breakfast there was a bowl of porridge waiting for her. She scooped some into her mouth, it was cold but sweetened with brown sugar. Nosily she swallowed, staring down at the mush. After eating the unappetizing meal, she placed the bowl in the sink and slipped into a pair of rubber boots. 

She squinted as she brushed her hair back, finding the yard empty besides for Sebastian. Dressed in work clothes, he seemed rather busy moving things around. She approached him, wary of the ducklings that were always nearby. "Good morning!"

He glanced up, grunting then continued with his work. 

"Did... did you sleep all right?"

He gave another disgruntled sound, grabbing a stack of chopped wood to pile by the barn. 

"That bad?" 

Sebastian straightened, fixing her with narrowed eyes. "What do you think?" She shrugged, feeling nervous as she shifted her weight on her feet. He sighed, shaking his head. 

"Um, do you know where Jim is?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"B-but" her words fell, caught off guard by the frown he was giving her. "Sorry," she mumbled "about.. well, everything. Getting you into this mess and last night, you know you didn't have to sleep out here."

"No," he eventually said "I really did." 

"Right, um..." she looked around the property "do you need help with anything?"

* * *

 

_Meanwhile; translated from French_

 

Jim leaned back, thumbs hooked into his overalls. "How was the harvest last year?" The farmer across from him shrugged, his name had been immediately forgotten by the criminal mastermind.

"As good as could be expected." He spat to the side. Jim blinked, smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"How's that pretty wife of your's?" Blinking Jim shifted his gaze to one of the other farmers, Lucas.

"She's not my wife." 

Lucas spat onto the ground, "I'd change that if I was you, before someone snatches that pretty thing up." Jim raised a brow, he'd like to see someone try. His grin widened, sharp teeth showing as he thought of that. God, the things he would do.

"Molly isn't the type to wander too far."

Gabriel snorted, taking another drag from his cigarette. Jim decided he liked him the best. 

"So," the nameless farmer started again "is she still...?"

"...Still?" Jim hummed, then it dawned on him. "Ah... yes she's still.." He made a non descriptive gesture.  The farmers made sympathetic clicks with their tongues. Gabriel passed his cigarette over to Jim, and gladly the consulting criminal took it, taking a lengthy drag. He was thinking when all of this was said and done, he and the ever talkative Gabriel should grab a beer together. Is that what people did? Grabbed beverages with one another? He passed the cigarette back, smoke spilling from his lips.

"Awful," Lucas mumbled "I hope she get's better." Jim hummed. Neither of the farmers commented that this strange man seemed the less bit worried for his... well, whatever she was. Gabriel spat onto the ground.

Jim smiled. He then joined in and spat as well, offhandedly wondering what these blokes did for fun other than spitting onto dirt.

* * *

 

Molly frowned as she stared at the intimidating equipment, considering the likelihood of her getting injured. It was most definitely in the high percentage ratio. Sighing, she used the little metal ladder on the side and opened the door, climbing on in. Settling on the leather seat, she clicked on the belt in place and stared at the steering wheel and all of the knobs in front of her. "Sebastian?!"

Groaning the sniper dropped his wood onto the grass before he crossed the yard, ducklings predictably following after. He brushed his hands off, quickly climbing the ladder to the top and sticking his head in, the frantic chirping below filling their ears. "What?"

"How do you," Molly gestured to the console, "how do you use this?" Sebastian merely sighed, shaking his head. In the next few minutes, he would give her a run down of how to use the tractor. Molly tried her hardest to absorb as much of the information provided as she could, how to drive it and how to plant more crops. It was all very daunting, it was completely different from the work she was used it. There wasn't a risk of dying when she worked on her patients, they already did that for her.

Sebastian closed the door, clambering down to comfort his child- the damned birds, and to finish his chores.

Putting one foot on the brake, Molly turned the engine on, startled by the loudness of the noise. She took a deep breath in, staring at the stretch of dirt in front of her. 

* * *

 

  _Meanwhile, still spitting_

"And why is that?"

Lucas sniffed, nodding absently to the side. "Well you have to be careful, the marmots are everywhere this time of year."

"Marmots?"

"Groundhogs." The nameless man interjected.

"Ah" Jim was still staring at the farmers blankly. "And why are giant rats a problem?"

"Holes" Gabriel finally said, "it's dangerous if you run over them." Even if he wasn't mute any longer, he was still Jim's favourite. And as if some cosmic being was listening in on their conversation, there was a sudden loud sound. They were all frozen for a second, but the commotion on Jim's property had them springing into action. 

When they arrived on the scene already Sebastian was to the rescue, trying to help Molly out. An awful pit settling in Jim's stomach, a sensation he hadn't felt for such a long time. He hated it, that emotion it was.. it was pitiful concern balled up together with anger.

One of the tractor's wheels had found a groundhog's burrow, the ground giving way to the entrance of the tunnel. Thankfully the machine hadn't rolled over, which easily could have been deadly. Instead it was leaning precariously, Molly still inside was trembling as she looked on in disbelief. Jim shoved Lucas aside, hurrying to climb the ladder and to open the door. While the sniper and the rest of the farmers were at the sides, keeping it steady, Jim clambered in.

"What are you doing?!" He snapped, turning the engine off and unbuckling her belt. She was still staring at him, shocked when he yanked her from the seat and dragged her out. "Do you fucking want to get killed?!"

"I.." Feet touching the ground, she was pulled away several feet from the tractor before he let her fall to the dirt.

"Heaven forbid you do anything sensible in your life for once!" In the background the other men managed to safely retreat from the site, gathered as they talked of strategy. Jim was pacing in front of her, taking his straw hat off in a fit of anger and throwing it to the ground. "Honestly I've never met anyone more frustrating, why couldn't you just sit still a-"

"Okay!" She finally yelled, roused from her daze. "I get it, you're mad. But is shouting at me really going to make everything better?! We wouldn't be on this bloody farm if you didn't take things too far!"

Jim stopped mid stride, tossing her a look that was so offended she flinched. "I took things to far?!" He squawked. " _Me?!_ Darling, did you forget that _you're_ the one who started this in the first place?!" She climbed to her feet, nose scrunched.

"I'm sorry I installed FarmVille, but it was a joke!"

"Thank you!" Jim tossed his hands in the air. "Do you know how long I was waiting to hear those two magic words?! Too fucking long!" He looked around him in disgust "I'm dirty, the shower doesn't have hot water half the time, the mattress is lumpy, and the smell! God.." he shook his head, "I was planning on killing Lucas just to do something!" The farmer lifted his head at the sound of his name, squinting. "Molly," Jim stepped up to her pleadingly "I was _sooo_ bored!"

She shook her head in disbelief, "If you hated it that much then why keep up the facade?" He gave her the ever eloquent response of a shrug.

"Let's talk about it on the plane ride, first we need to collect our son before Plan B starts."

"...Plan B?"

 

It was several hours later until Molly was back at her flat, taking a deep breath of the familiar smell. The kettle had just finished, loud hissing filling the air as she moved it to a cool element. Jim was resting on the couch, feet propped up the coffee table as he flipped through channels on the telly. "God, I truly missed this." He caressed his own chest, relishing the fabric of his suit. "Westwood is always kind to my figure, unlike those overalls." He spat to the side, forgetting and not caring where he was.

"Ji-" She started to yell, then remembered herself. Molly rolled her eyes, filling her mug with boiling water. "You're unbelievable" she mumbled under her breath.

"Oh, I know, dear." He called over his shoulder. "You've really hit the jackpot." He pointedly ignored the snort from his pathologist. Sebastian, who sat by the front door ignored them both. Sharpening one of his many hunting knives, he glanced at Toby. Sleeping on the carpeted floor by a window so the sunlight was beaming down on him, the feline was stretched out peacefully. Surrounding the cat were the ducklings, each nestled close to his side and resting as well. It appeared Toby had been the victor of the war.

 

Everything had gone back to normal, well, as normal as can be when dating Jim Moriarty. Molly had to return to work and catch up on all of the paperwork that had been neglected, and sort through the mail that had been stuffed into her P.O. box. But these events slowly slipped from her mind, like it never happened. That is, until April Fool's Day drew near.

* * *

 

_In France, days later_

 

They had done it, the Moreaus had survived the underground fighting arena. Of course they didn't emerge completely unscathed, Mr. Moreau had lost a hand and was now fitted with a hook in its place. His now bald wife had been fortunate with losing only a finger. They had left the arena the same way as they had entered it, hands and feet tied and a black cloth bag over their heads. The van they were in came to a rocky stop, and their limbs were cut free. Seconds later a door was opened and they were shoved outside.

Groaning they both lay in the dirt for a few moments, sluggishly lifting the bag from their respective heads as the van drove off. Mr. Moreau was the first to stand up, squinting against the light. They hadn't seen natural sunlight in a week, their cells and the fighting grounds were darkened. When his eyes finally adjusted and he understood what was before him, his legs became weak and he fell to the ground again. His wife began to cry, staring at what remained of their home. Everything was burned to the ground, the lingering scent of smoke was thick in the air. Everything was gone besides a lone tractor, left in some hole. Mr. Moreau spat onto the ground.


End file.
